"Mika," he repeated, learning the name and committing it to memory as he stilled himself to let the curious companion examine him. "I am Hadama." He gave the mata mata a solemn nod, completing the ritual of introduction. His stoic expression eased as she returned to Noe's shoulder and he took in his young friend again. She appeared happy and healthy, and it was a balm to his heart after the long, cold night that had ended the year. A balm he would need all the more when he returned to Torchline after their meeting to news of the deaths of Seren and Nysadeia.
The King of Torchline joined Noe on the selected bench, settling his weight gingerly down onto the sturdy stone and raising his head to let his gaze travel over the beautiful statues and tended flowers. There were shadows at the edges of the open-air temple to the gods, and the chill violet of corrupted flora among the flowers that bloomed among spring's more common heralds, but he had not seen any defacement of the altars or the depictions of Caido's gods and he tilted his head to the side at Noe's question.
"It is beautiful." The words were inadequate, but Hadama was no poet. Still, for the sake of his goddess he tried. "I am... pleased. To see all of the gods worshiped together here." He turned his attention back to the engineer at his side, one steely brow lifting slightly in curiosity. "Which statue is your favorite?" It was not a question of her faith but of her aesthetic, though perhaps the two were indeed linked.
The King of Torchline joined Noe on the selected bench, settling his weight gingerly down onto the sturdy stone and raising his head to let his gaze travel over the beautiful statues and tended flowers. There were shadows at the edges of the open-air temple to the gods, and the chill violet of corrupted flora among the flowers that bloomed among spring's more common heralds, but he had not seen any defacement of the altars or the depictions of Caido's gods and he tilted his head to the side at Noe's question.
"It is beautiful." The words were inadequate, but Hadama was no poet. Still, for the sake of his goddess he tried. "I am... pleased. To see all of the gods worshiped together here." He turned his attention back to the engineer at his side, one steely brow lifting slightly in curiosity. "Which statue is your favorite?" It was not a question of her faith but of her aesthetic, though perhaps the two were indeed linked.
